


Suited

by SherlockScones



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Nationverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockScones/pseuds/SherlockScones
Summary: Adorning suits for a formal function gives a surprising insight into Francis and Arthur's thoughts about each other. A short drabble.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	1. Francis

He hated formal attire.

Francis’ nose wrinkled as he looked at himself in the mirror. It was something _he_ liked. His rival adored—no revelled in—the crisp shirts, the stiffened collar, cuffs and the straight tailored trousers.

Not that Arthur looked bad—he really did carry off the look effortlessly—But for Francis it was just too ordered.

The same grey-black attire held every promise of uniformity and none of personality. He shifted his shoulders. To Francis a suit had all the feel of a straightjacket, a bind of fabric which took away the freedom of movement and expression of the mind. Where was the liberty in conformity?

He briefly wondered if this was one of the reasons Arthur so enjoyed military attire whereas he sought every opportunity not to wear it.

As he buttoned his collar, thin fingers brushed against a raised scar, one which encircled his neck. He flinched, reminded there had been other, less ordered, times. He adjusted his tie and tightened, the silk fitting around his neck like a noose. At least this rope wouldn’t kill him.

Perhaps it was healthy to have a little order now and again.


	2. Arthur

Arthur straightened and smoothed the lapels on his jacket, admiring the cut of his elegant suit from every angle. _Perfect_ , he thought, thoroughly pleased. There was nothing more delightful than wearing a finely tailored suit.

Arthur just wished _he_ felt the same way.

He frowned as he adjusted his cufflinks, a past memory coming to mind; Francis fidgeting the entire night, shifting distractedly until finally his jacket was _slung_ over a chair with his tie hanging looser at an increasingly odd angles until it too was _discarded_ and the top button on his shirt _undone_.

Utterly exasperated by this behaviour, Arthur had finally asked what the problem was. The terse reply had been that Francis found the attire too restrictive and impersonal, ‘Oppression of the self through conformity’ or something. He had scoffed, conformity was not the point. Good manners were, and— when one attended a royal ball—one dressed appropriately.

That had done it. His condescending tone had reciprocated an equally strong reaction from Francis. Such was their relationship.

Their argument had ended when he was accused of being too conforming.

Secretly, he had been slightly offended and perhaps a little hurt by Francis’ comment. Did Francis really believe he had no personality? His attire certainly was not devoid of it; if one looked closely they would see that he had chosen a double-breasted, structured style of suit jacket—the lining a special silk Hong Kong had gifted him when they parted ways—with buttons which were subtle small replicas of the ones he wore on his military uniforms, one from each regiment he had served in. His cufflinks were a simple platinum, a gift from Alfred on his birthday to reaffirm their strong bond as nations.

At a glance it might look the same as everyone else, but that was only if someone did not look beyond the black and white for the subtle detail.

But then again, Francis wasn’t exactly one for subtlety. He was passionate and expressed himself in a colourful way that a buttoned-down suit never could.

He straightened as he took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied, he turned to leave… before hesitating.

On a sudden impulse he reached out to pluck a red rose from a nearby vase and secure it to his lapel. It wasn’t the kind of engagement that one wore a flower too—it was sure to get him noticed—however…

He thought Francis would appreciate that.


End file.
